Dance with me

(Dance with me, part II)

Bucky x fem!reader

Warnings: angst/hurt; mentions of assault, Non-Con (not graphic);

18+; please pay attention to the warnings.

It had been almost three weeks since that night in that no name town. Three weeks since Bucky kissed you on the dance floor, and then again outside of the bar, as the team giggled and stumbled their way back to the Quinn jet. You had laid your head against Bucky’s shoulder as the plane’s autopilot feature brought you all home, and listened to the laughter of your family, as they planned the next getaway. And in that moment, Bucky’s gloved hand entwined in yours, you felt like you were in paradise. A little bubble that nobody could break.

But as soon as the plane landed, and everyone stumbled to bed, it was as if the world shifted and the feelings you had on that dance floor turned into memories. And Bucky slipped away like sand through your fingers.

It started small. You’d place a hand on his shoulder as you passed in the kitchen, and he’d glance up and give you a small smile before excusing himself to the gym. You had figured he was just getting back into his routine, which was completely fine, you had your own to return to. But it started to weigh on you the more he pulled away. You’d gesture for him to sit in the seat you saved during movie night, but he’d flop down on the floor near Sam, pretending to be engaged in whatever random thing Sam was talking about. And yeah, that had hurt. More than you wanted to admit. But you’d give him space because you wanted him in your life, and you figured he’d come around eventually. You were sure that the kiss meant something to him. To you both. He’d come around.

That was weeks ago.

The team had been discussing the next outing, deciding to just stay in New York and deal with the crowds and attention as it came. Tony planned to research a darker, smaller bar, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, so things would go as smooth as they did last time. And you all deserved it. Nat was still recovering from a recent mission that had her out of commission the last few days, locked in her room, refusing to see anyone. She finally emerged and announced this outing, insisting that the entire team needed it. You had looked at Bucky timidly, but he averted his eyes, smiling at Sam being pulled away by Nat to secretly discuss their next karaoke performance. The team was abuzz as Tony returned with the name of a bar close to the outskirts of the city, and everyone went their separate ways to get ready for the night. Everyone but you and Bucky. He looked tense, both hands clamped to the side of the island table in the kitchen, and you approached him cautiously.

“Hey, Bucky?” You whispered, watching carefully as his head jerked up looking at you fully for the first time in weeks, before letting out a deep breath, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. Just as soon as it was there, Bucky was stone faced again, wrenching his hands from the table and facing you.

“Hey,” he responded, glancing behind him, almost as if he was plotting his escape through some secret hatch.

“Hey,” you said again, suddenly nervous. Bucky glanced back at you, a look of impatience in his eye, and your cheeks heated in response. You took a breath, stealing yourself for the conversation you knew you needed to finally have with the super soldier in front of you.

“Bucky, can we talk about what happened?” Bucky met your eyes briefly, letting out a puff of air and running his hand through his cropped hair.

“What do you mean?” You let out a frustrated breath, scoffing at his feigned ignorance, Bucky giving you a weary look.

“You know what I’m talking about, Bucky. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.” Though you fought it, your breath hitched on the last word, and Bucky’s eyes shot up to yours, bright and alert. He took a half a step toward you, before thinking twice and taking two steps back. In any other moment it would have been comical to see such a tough man so nervous, but you waited patiently for him to finally engage with you somehow. He let out another breath, glancing down at the floor.

“Sweetheart…” He paused, considering his next words. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up in the moment.” He finally blurred out, eyes rising to meet yours. “Your friendship means too much to me, I can’t risk losing that.” You stood silent as his words washed over you, confusion quickly morphing into anger. Bucky took your silence as an answer and gave you a weak smile, before turning on his heel and heading toward the exit behind you.

“My friendship?!” You spun around and shot at his back, making him jolt to a stop in the doorway. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Bucky,” you continued, keeping your voice more measured and even.

“If you didn’t like me, all you had to do was say so.” Your voice came out a level above a whisper, as you confessed what was weighing on you for weeks. Bucky kept his back turned to you, and you were silently begging him to turn around, to say anything to deny what you had just said. But the soldier simply hung his head and exited, never once turning around to see the tears slip down your cheeks.

You swiped at both cheeks angrily and stomped to the third floor toward where Nat and Wanda were surely getting ready for the night. You bust through the door, heading to Nat’s closet, muttering “I need to borrow a dress.” As you rifled through the fabric hanging in the closet, you didn’t catch the worried look the two women exchanged behind you.

————————

Tony was right that the bar was quiet, but there were still quite a few people huddled around and moving on the dance floor, the DJ pumping out a top 40 dance remix, much to Nat and Sam’s chagrin.

But after a few shots of whiskey that you made them take with you, they were more than willing to pull you with them in the dance floor, the red cocktail dress you borrowed from Nat threatening to expose you with every move you made. As you waltzed through Nat’s room earlier you vowed to forget about Bucky, even if just for tonight, and your plan was working for the most part. When a pair of muscular arms snaked around your waist, and a voice muttered “dance with me?” in your ear, you were brought back to the night a few weeks ago, but you nodded your head, and the four shots in your system did their job, forcing you to sway back and forth with the stranger, shaking your hips.

The stranger looked pleasant enough, shoulder length blonde hair briefly making you think of Bucky again, but you pushed the thought out of your head and tried to focus on the strangers hands warm at your lower back. You closed your eyes and leaned into the man when Tony had walked up, pulling you roughly from the stranger’s hands.

“What are you doing?” Tony yelled over the fast beat of the music, shooting a warning look at the man’s protests behind you. You pushed against Tony’s arms, but his grip was firm, so you looked up at him, Tony’s eyes softening as you met them.

“Are you okay?” He practically mimed, struggling to be heard over the music. You nodded yes before Tony’s attention was pulled from you by a few screaming drunk girls wanting to take a picture.

You took advantage of your “dad’s” distraction to pull out of his grasp and shimmy back to the stranger, taking the shot he offered you in one gulp, and wincing as the liquid burned its way down your throat. The music changed to something a bit slower, and the man wrapped his arms respectfully around your waist, you placing your hands on his shoulder. Though you were looking into green eyes, you were imagining blue ones, and a hint of vanilla and spice hit your nostrils. You looked around, but Bucky was nowhere in sight so you settled into the strangers embrace, hoping to get the blue eyes out of your mind, even if just for one song.

As you continued to sway, your mind began to get a bit fuzzy, vision blurring, and you tried to remember how many shots you had taken. Surely it wasn’t more than four or five; you would be drunk, but not this drunk.

You continued to try to shake the haze from your mind, not realizing the man was slowly backing you off of the dance floor away from your friends and down a hallway toward what must be the bathroom. You tried to push out of his grasp, but you were spiraling fast, and halfway down the hall, the man was practically dragging you toward the woman’s bathroom his hands under your armpits. You tried to protest as the door to the bathroom swung open and you were dropped with a thud onto the floor inside, but your mouth wouldn’t move, your brain struggling to send the words to your lips. Your vision was darkening at the edges and you couldn’t make out who was crawling on top of you anymore, or whose hands were hiking up your dress and yanking down your underwear, the elastic burning across your thighs. You moved your hands weakly pushing at the man’s, who slapped them away easily. You hadn’t felt so human for decades, and the thought had you spiraling further into your drunk, and drugged mind. You were numb to the entire situation, blacking out as you heard the clank of a belt buckle.

You were awakened what had to have been hours later by a scream, and water being thrown on your face. You didn’t react, unable to process what was happening to you, simply opening your eyes, and looking up into wild red hair.

“Y/N! Oh my god baby!” Wanda was screaming gripping your shoulders and pulling your body into her lap, struggling with your dead limbs. But all you could think was that Wanda had never called you “baby” before. Even when you were laying up in the hospital with several broken ribs and a massive concussion. It wasn’t like she was emotionless, but pet names were never a thing between you two. What happened? You felt Wanda’s warm hands smooth down your legs and you flinched at her touch.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” she replied, an octave or two away from speaking to a toddler. “I’m just fixing your dress.” Taking in her words, you had a sudden flashback to the clinking of a belt buckle, and the calluses on the stranger’s hands. You felt a tear slip out from your eyes, and you wanted to swipe at it angrily, but you couldn’t make your limbs move the way you wanted them to. Your arms felt like they did when you slept on them wrong and it took a minute for the blood to return and allow them to function. You were too lost in that thought to focus on what was happening around you.

Between whispers to you, Wanda continued to shout toward the exit, until Nat finally strutted in, unaware of what she was about to see as she casually came through the door.

“Wanda, what are you shouting fo—” she stopped mid sentence, taking in the scene in front of her, her mouth twisting into a perfect ‘o’ complete shock forming on her face.

“Nat, get Bucky, please, I can’t lift her.” You could tell by Wanda’s voice that she was crying, and by the way Nat spun on her heel and rushed out the door, it was obvious that the situation wasn’t good. The weight of it all hit you, and a flood of tears leaked out of your eyes, a soft moan coming out of your mouth.

“Shhh, baby, it’s all gonna be fine. I’m just gonna move you away from the door okay?” You tried to nod, but your head merely lulled to the side and you tried to confirm for Wanda to move your lower half away from the door, your dignity on display for everyone with your short dress and discarded underwear. Wanda scooted slowly on her knees, pivoting your body so your feet were pointed at the sinks, pulling your dress down the best she could, and smoothing down your hair. You laid there another minute or two, when the door opened again, revealing a solemn Natasha, and panicking Bucky. You refused to meet his eyes as he rushed through the door, Nat locking it behind them for privacy.

Bucky threw himself on the floor next to you, shouting at Nat and Wanda to tell him what happened, and you had the sudden urge to yell at him to stop shouting at the two women, but your lips and throat disobeyed you, nothing but a tiny squeak emitting from your lips.

“She had been dancing with that guy…” Wanda began, explaining that she noticed you had disappeared from the dance floor and had found you laying on the floor passed out moments ago. Her words had your shooting your eyes up to look into hers. You had only been in the bathroom a few minutes? It felt like hours since the stranger pulled you in here. Wanda left out many of the details of how she truly found you, but Bucky was smart enough to put the pieces together, glancing around you and spotting the ruined piece of fabric, bunched up near where you were sprawled out. Bucky let out a noise at the realization that sounded more like a growl than anything else, and rose to his feet in one quick motion, walking purposefully toward the door. You watched him with your eyes, as Nat put her hands on his chest, halting his movements.

“Barnes, stop.” She commanded, using her best in charge voice.

“We don’t have time to kill him, Tony can track him down later. We need your help to get Y/N out of here, me and Wanda can’t lift her on our own.” Bucky stopped at her words, glancing back over his shoulder and looking into your eyes. Whatever he saw there must have made his decision for him, because he stomped back to your side, and lifted you effortlessly into his arms. Despite your broken heart screaming at you to stop, you lifted your head as much as you could and rested it into the crook of Bucky’s neck, reveling in his warmth. Wanda reached up gently to fix your dress and you cursed your decisions hours ago to wear such a revealing garment. Not because of what happened to you, but for the impracticality of it. With you securely in his arms, Bucky headed toward the door Nat unlocking it, but pausing before opening it.

“I’ll keep an eye out for the guy while you take Y/N home. Wanda, you’ll tell everyone Y/N got sick and Barnes is taking her home. I know it’s not ideal, but Tony and Sam will burn this place to the ground with everyone in it if they find out wha happened to her right now.” Bucky let out a low growl again at Nat’s words, but she ignored him, continuing with her plan.

“We’ll discuss what to do when we get back to the compound.” Wanda nodded in response, Bucky simply fixing his gaze on the door waiting for Nat to open it. You let a few tears slip from your eyes as you listed to the plan, the drop of them against his neck making Bucky flinch, which made the tears come faster. Nat opened the door after another beat and everyone went their separate ways, her and Wanda back to the noise of the bar, and Bucky out a side door marked “employees only,” that thankfully led outside.

You figured Bucky would hail a cab, but were surprised when he stepped onto the sidewalk taking purposeful steps toward the Avengers compound. It would be a long, quiet walk, so you moved your head the slightest bit closer into the crook of Bucky’s neck, seeking comfort more than anything. You could feel how tense Bucky was, and you weren’t sure what was making him more tense, the anger you could feel coursing through his body, or the discomfort from having you in his arms. Either way you wished more than anything that you were able to ask what was going on in his head. Almost as if he read your mind, Bucky spoke to you for the first time since your conversation in the kitchen hours earlier.

“I was outside,” he started. His voice rough and full of unreadable emotion.

“I was outside when Nat found me.” You couldn’t move your head to look into his eyes, so you fluttered your eyelids against his neck slowly, hoping that let him know you were listening.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you in that guys arms. The way he whispered in your ear and you rewarded him with a full smile. I couldn’t take it. So I went outside. And he—“ he trailed off, unable to say the words, his jaw clenching.

“He hurt you while I was outside.” You felt Bucky’s arms tense around you as he spoke, and you heard the regret, and anguish he was feeling. But also the red hot anger. You couldn’t respond, even with a million thought flying through your mind, but you didn’t have the chance to anyway as you neared the blue lights of the compound, and Bucky hurried his steps.

Bucky rushed up the stairs of the building heading toward the fourth floor and opening the door to his room, and you were hit with the unmistakable scent of Bucky once again, a wave of comfort washing over you. He set you lightly on his bed, fixing the pillow under your head, and disappearing, returning a second later with two glasses of water and a salt shaker. He slowly positioned your body to a sitting position, placing the first glass of water to your lips, being careful to guide the liquid into your mouth the best he could. When you’d drank some of the water, Bucky placed it back on the bedside table, hesitating, before grabbing the next glass and dumping the entire salt shaker into it, spinning the liquid around to mix it, and looking back at you.

“Sweetheart,” you were used to pet names from Bucky, but this time a jolt ran through you, as you heard concern and love in his voice for the first time in weeks. He looked a bit panicked again, unsure of what he was about to say, so you tried to urge him on with a raise of your eyebrows, your facial muscles unfreezing a bit. Bucky sighed before continuing.

“I think he drugged you, sweetheart. And you should try and throw up to see if it helps.” Bucky was still holding you in a sitting position, but your head felt less and less heavy sitting on your neck, and you were able to nod up and back down once, Bucky giving you a small smile, before hoisting you into his arms again, grabbing the salt water, and heading into his bathroom, where he sat you gently in the bathtub leaning you against the edge to grab some towels from under the sink.

“Okay, doll,” Bucky said with a small grimace. “This is going to suck a bit.” You blew some air out of your lips, and raised your eyebrows again, urging Bucky to continue. He lifted the cloudy water to your lips and tilted your head back so some of it could fall down your throat. Almost immediately, a warmth was flooding to your throat, and your body heaved. Bucky removed the glass, tipping your head forward as you threw up onto the towel Bucky had laid across your lap.

“That’s so good, baby, almost done.” Bucky muttered as you sputtered a few times, dry heaving once more before you were done, your body slumping in exhaustion. Bucky wiped the sweat from your forehead and used another towel to wipe around your mouth, throwing both to the other end of the tub, and hoisting you up and back into his arms. You were dizzy from the motion, but could already tell your limbs were beginning to cooperate, and you were able to hold your head up better.

Bucky laid you gently back on the bed, turning to his closet to get you something different to wear. You were able to slowly scoot yourself to the headboard, a quiet thud sounding as your back hit it, Bucky glancing back at you, a small smile on his face as he saw what you were doing. You still felt incredibly foggy, and couldn’t form a complete sentence, but you were able to move your arms a little, elbows stiff from not being used in awhile. And you could feel some bruising developing across your back from where you were dropped casually to the floor of the bathroom. Bucky returned with one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants, holding both out for you. You grabbed the shirt slowly, your arm trembling a bit from the motion, and Bucky dropped the sweatpants to the floor, turning to give you some privacy.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice coming out barely audible, like a puff of air. You slowly pulled the straps of Nat’s dress down, setting a mental reminder to wash it before returning it to her, and slipping Bucky’s shirt over your head. You lifted your hips and pushed the material off the dress down your legs and settled the shirt to rest against your upper thighs, leaning against the headboard again. The serum was helping you recover faster, you could tell, but the act of dressing had you exhausted, practically huff and puffing like you ran a marathon. Bucky waited a beat more, before glancing over his shoulder to see that you were finished.

He reached for your discarded dress, folding it and placing it on the chair near where you sat, moving his weight from foot to foot, as he looked anywhere but at you.

“You must be exhausted.” He finally said, glancing at you to see you nod once in response. He seemed to relax at that, and motioned to the bed continuing.

“You can stay here if you want, I’ll sleep on the couch over there of course.” You stared into Bucky’s eyes as he finally looked into yours, before he turned and headed toward the couch. You gathered up all your courage and took a deep breath to make sure you were heard.

“Bucky,” you started, The soldier turning around and letting out a soft “hm?” in response.

“Please, stay with me tonight.” You hadn’t wanted to sound as desperate as you did, but the entire night all you had wanted was Bucky, and that hadn’t changed. When he came storming into the bathroom earlier you couldn’t deny that you were glad it was him coming to save the day. You were far from a damsel in distress most days, but feeling like Bucky cared tonight eased some of the hurt from the conversation earlier in the kitchen. Bucky seemed to weigh his options, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought before slowly nodding and coming to sit at the end of the bed, pulling the comforter back so you could slide down to a laying position.

“I’ll be right here, doll.” Bucky whispered, clicking off the lamp by the bed, the quiet and the dark calming the mood in the room. As you tucked yourself under the blankets and into a little ball, you reached out for Bucky, grabbing hold of his right hand tight, as if he were the only thing anchoring you to reality right now, which was probably more true than not. You’d never admit it, but you were terrified of what awaited you behind closed eyelids. Would you dream of the bathroom?

You couldn’t remember what had happened on the cold floor earlier and the realization had you shivering, and you felt Bucky tuck the blanket around your legs a little tighter, mistaking your body’s movement for being cold. You smiled at him gently, as he slowly moved his thumb across the back of your hand, holding it tight in his own. Your eyelids were beginning to droop when you heard crashing and raised voices from the floor below, where the main living room and kitchen was. Bucky let out a long breath, and pulled your hand away from his, looking into your eyes to see you were still awake.

“I’ll be right back, Y/N, okay? I’m going to go see what’s going—“ you gripped his hand tight again, not letting him finish his thought, silently begging him to not leave you alone. He gently pulled his hand away again, giving you a reassuring smile.

“I promise I’ll be right back. 5 minutes, okay?” You only looked at him, and he leaned forward slowly, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, moving back when he heard another crash from below.

As he reached the door he turned back toward you, uttering out a quick “get some sleep,” before disappearing through the door, closing it with a soft click.

And suddenly, you were alone.

A/N: I’m not sure how I feel about this one, and I’m sorry if it’s not what people expected… it’s just kind of where the story led me, for better or worse. Probably a part 3 coming.

Tags:@taina-eny;@meisspookycrayon

it’s ok he deserves to brood for a while

marvel writers confirming that bucky really only likes 40’s music & marvin gaye is the thing that will keep me going for the rest of my life

AAAAAHHHH WE HIT 7k!!!!! GUYS!! thank you so much for those who follow and interact with my posts !! love u all to the moon (hey steve) and back!! thank u for being part of this blog for the past 3 ½ years ;) here’s a running bucky gif to celebrate

jake lockley:

the wheelchair:

Old me during a thunderstorm; Not…entirely…comfortable…

Me, now, during a thunderstorm;